


Magician

by upquarkAO3



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 'cause too much bullsh!t is boring, Gen, another way to get a grip, bedroom slipper fluffy without the actual bedroom, for a change, less angsty, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/upquarkAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after Devil’s Food. Silly, simpler, warm and fuzzier attempt on Chloe’s Catching of Clue than Storm Warning. I actually could see something of similar ilk going down, as our Detective is a smart cookie and on quite a steep and slippery slope already. Just a little push all the way into the weirdness she’s pretty well snarled in already might open her eyes. And that might not be as painful as she’d feared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magician

**Author's Note:**

> Still trying to figure out Chloe's voice. Gave her (and everyone else) a dang break from angst in this bit of froof.

[ - ]

Shuffling paperwork around on her desk, Chloe caught a glimpse of the time and let an amused little smile wash her face. It had been well over an hour, and Lucifer and Trixie were still out on the back porch together. On the one hand, she was glad to hear what sounded like murmurs of ‘normal’ conversational cadence interspersed with Trixie’s laughter. On the other…Chloe sighed as she ran her hands over her face imagining the possibilities. Flinching a little at the bizarre, likely off-putting possibilities. Hoping that Lucifer wasn’t living up to his own par by being devilish enough even without the outlandish self-identification by spouting off totally inappropriate things. He couldn’t seem to help it, really. The man had a weak filter even at his best, much less with overexposure to the under-aged.

A peal of girlish giggles made her smile even more. Screw it. If he was making her previously distraught daughter sound like that, well, she could probably find a way to forgive him whatever trespasses came up. Then another welcome sound rang through the door she’d left propped open, less for her daughter’s well-being than Lucifer’s. He generally seemed flummoxed and disconcerted by Trix and her antics: Chloe was surprised he’d lasted this long.

“I’m hungry, Mommy!” The mother in her grinned widely. Other than the chocolate cake her partner had brought by, Trixie hadn’t eaten a lot in the few days since the ordeal with Malcolm and these words were music to her ears. She closed her laptop, neatened a stack of paperwork and set it to one side. She was more than happy to take a break from the drudgery of cleaning up that mess of a situation, but pleased there did seem to be a proverbial light at the end of the tunnel at last. The next voice ringing out made her wince and shrug in the framework of a sardonic grin.

“De **TEC** tive! Your child needs care…or animal husbandry….or whatever it is you people do with these…terrible taxing burdens you insist inflicting upon the world. Poor appropriation of resources if you ask me. Regardless, I’ve cleaned up enough of this mess; do your part, now.”

More childish laughter.

“You’re SO funny!”

“You must be daft. Where in any of my words have you mined for humor? I was in earnest, you know.”

Peals of giggles.

“ **Honestly**.” It was probably the most put-upon inflection burned in that word since the English language was invented, and the sound made Chloe join her daughter with a little laughter of her own. Her first since that horrible night….and it felt good. Good enough to rescue her partner from the hole he’d clearly dug his way into. She pushed her chair back from the desk and stood, stretching, feeling some tension bleed away as the strain of worry eased.

“Be right out, you two. Occupy each other for a few more minutes, okay?”

Two divergent replies sallied through the open door simultaneously. One chirpy. One decidedly **not**.

“Okay!” / “Oh. Lovely. Well, fiiiiiiiiiiiine, then.”

Chloe puttered in her kitchen, still smiling, idly listening less to the actual snippets of conversation she could barely hear than simply the rise and fall of their voices and her daughter’s laughter. Holding a knife in one hand as she was preparing to cut the sandwiches she’d quickly assembled, Chloe was struck hard by how very preciously unexpected the moment was to her. Trixie was going to be okay. With some more work than just love, a visit and dessert, but okay nonetheless. And Lucifer…he **was** okay. **How** he was ‘okay’ still a mystery, but for right now some of her favorite people were just outside, waiting for her to join them. Quickly wiping some sudden signs of deep happiness from her eyes with the back of one hand and picking up the tray of sandwiches and fruit with the other she called out to them.

“Hey, I thought we’d just keep it simple since Nana’s gone out with friends for the evening.”

Lucifer groused to himself. At least Penelope had some taste and refinement. The sort of ‘simple fare’ that would satisfy the child would likely **not** be of his typical proclivities. Still…he was willing to suffer (though likely not in silence). This had been a welcome break from his own worries and a good afternoon. The child was more herself much to his relief and he knew the Detective would be appreciative of that as well. He allowed himself a small smirk as he wondered indeed **how** appreciative she might actually be? Lost in that pleasant little daydream he failed to notice her entering the porch, occupied with amusing Trixie as he’d been. A rather loud thunk sounded on the coffee table as Chloe dropped the tray she was carrying from a height of several inches.

Deafening silence followed.

Oh dear.

“Little one, since your mother appears to be stricken mightily with horrific clumsiness, I’ll help her with the drinks while you clear us some space in this disaster, yeah? Enough untidiness here without adding random fluids to it, don’t you think?” With one hand he indicated the mess of crayoned drawings as he scrambled to his feet, desperate to remove Chloe and her bulging eyes before she did or said something to undo all his hard work rebalancing the child’s equilibrium.

“All right.” The little girl set to sorting the coloring papers just as her mother had: gather gather tap tap, stack. Repeat. And then started in gathering the crayons they’d been fiddling with; that innocent imagination-imbued colored wax which had just blown a gaping hole in Chloe’s entire understanding of reality.

Lucifer grabbed the shell-shocked woman by the elbow and steered her quickly off the porch into the kitchen, whispering in her ear, “Steady on, Detective. Easy now. The child is fine as you saw, and you should be as well. Nothing terrible. Nothing scary. Nothing…” He was abruptly cut off by her spin out of his grip and the sharp, frightened hiss out of her tight-lipped mouth.

“What the HELL was that? What the ACTUAL HELL did I just see???”

“Exactly.” He shifted uncomfortably, hands stuffed in his pockets. Not meeting her eyes. “Lucifer...” Upon hearing herself say his name, she *really* heard it come through her mouth as if for the first time. Like he’d come through her whole existence: bigger than life and far more, FAR MORE baffling than she’d ever imagined. The realization struck her numb and dumb. Until…

“Oh god. Oh ‘ **GOD** ’.”

“No no, NOT exactly.” With even more furtive shuffling. Lucifer raised his glance from the tips of his polished shoes to watch her anxiously. She looked like a fish out of water, gasping for breath and aqua glare glazing over her perfectly round eyes. “Perhaps you ought to sit down for a moment Detective? You know, before you fall? I can tell you from experience, those can be quite nasty.” The early attempt at humor went by the wayside he could see. She was fidgety and flappy, shifting her weight from foot to foot and her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. Fingers fluttering as if in a stiff breeze over her eyes and forehead…like she was trying to perform an exorcism of memory. Helplessly awash, Chloe was finally thrown a lifeline she could not help but respond to.

“Mommy? Can I have juice instead of milk?”

She coughed. “Sure baby. Be right in.” Blinking rapidly she began to settle herself under the weight of years of training, watching as Lucifer moved through her kitchen _(as ‘Lucifer moved through her kitchen’? Could there BE a more insane phrase??!)_ Chloe watched the abnormality normally reaching into the cabinets for glasses and opening the fridge.

The Devil (oh **GOD** : take two) was busy sniffing the open carton of milk and screwing up his nose. “Good thing she DOESN’T want this. When was the last time you went shopping? This scent is pure Roquefort; unintended I’ll hope.”

Chloe swallowed. Once. Twice. On the third attempt she got past the dry tumbleweed of barbed wire caught in her craw and managed to croak out, “You’re really….you’re….”

“I know. I’ve said. And now **you** know,  finally. For a smart woman you’ve been a bit slow on the uptake, darling. But she…” pointing vehemently in the direction of the porch with an empty Minnie Mouse cup “…does NOT. And do you think she needs to see her mother in such as state as you are, fragile still as she is? Pull yourself together, please Chloe, or you’ll have single-handedly undone all my hard work here today. Everything’s as it’s ever been, other than your quite rapid adjustment to joining reality-already-in-progress.” With that, he finished pouring out three glasses: one with cranberry juice, one half juice, half whisky from a bottle he’d found in the back of the cabinet and two fingerfuls of same neat in a Buzz Lightyear tumbler. The last of which he gulped down and refilled.

“Now then, I’ll take these in,” picking up Buzz and Minnie, “…you quaff that; and perhaps another considering the vacant look on your face, and join us as you can. If not for me, then for her. But I hope a little for me at that, all things considered.” With a wink and a cautious smile Lucifer went back to the porch.

Chloe sat, dumbfounded. She clutched the drink in her hands just for something to quiet her hands and hold, then decided ‘why not…how could this get any worse?’ As she brought the glass up to her mouth the character he’d chosen caught her eye. Dory. Bug-eyed, go-full-measure-with-half-wits-Dory. Really.

He was **such** an ass.

And the choice made her laugh.

At him. At herself. At the situation. Because in actual fact, what else could she do? He was right about needing her to pull it together in front of Trixie **and this wasn’t over not by a long shot oh NO sir**, but this was Lucifer. Their version. Whatever else he was…she knew his heart, his kindness, his total lack of appropriate boundary maintenance and self-control, to name just a few of his largest attributes (the errant thought that he’d likely add at least one more to that list made her laugh harder). And most importantly, the fact that time and again, he’d come through for her. She listened as Trixie began giggling at something he’d said. For her girl, as well.

And that more than anything made her feel safer. Not from him. **With** him.

She drained the glass, wincing, and decided the idea was good but execution was overbearing. Again, much like him; he was nothing if not consistent. Refilling it with a little less octane, Chloe sipped slowly, gathering herself. Taking a deep breath and hoping she no longer resembled the character on the glass she walked out on the porch. And saw the same thing that had rocked her finite mind off its casters.

Lucifer was amusing Trixie by appearing to spin her crayons over the palm of his hand. In the air. In total ‘look ma, no strings’ style.

“Mommy look! Lucifer IS a magician! Just like we thought!”

“Hmm. Dark or light magic, I wonder?”

“Why my dear Detective, you simply cannot have one without the other.”

“Hmm.”

Lucifer grinned. Well, he supposed that would have to do. For now.


End file.
